


Reach for the Stars (and Hope Not to Fall)

by justanothernobody



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Romance, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, For Me, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, POV Second Person, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, basically it's the au ive always wanted to write, but i write, like this is the utmost cliche au out there, wheeeeeeee, yall can enjoy my v cliche fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 20:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19027501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothernobody/pseuds/justanothernobody
Summary: In a universe where everyone has an assigned life partner, youdon’t.





	Reach for the Stars (and Hope Not to Fall)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow May has been a very productive month for me, huh? XD Anyways, this one's a cliche fic that's been sitting in my drafts since February and I've only gotten the burst of inspo to finish it recently. Also, I experimented with a new writing style/pov in this fic. Since it's my first time using this style, comments and critics are <3<3<3 uwu
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

In this world, everyone has a designated partner for each one of them.

 

But for some, they’re either born with two names on their wrists or no names at all.

 

You’re one of those unfortunate souls with no names and neither a clue on whoever your partner may be.

 

It made you confused on why it made you unlike the rest.

 

Mom says it makes you special, Dad says it’s a blessing God’s given for you.

 

But really, it’s less like a gift and more like a curse.

 

Every time the kids in your class accidentally peek at your empty wrists, they push you away. Your teachers who steal a glance at your nameless skin look away in disgust.

 

And you?

 

Each passing second you look at it you hate yourself so much for being different.

 

 

———

 

 

At first, you never really despised it that much.

 

You grew up with mixed feelings for it. And it was never  _that_  bad — honestly, it was easier to cope with back then.

 

Even with all the pity you receive you’re always endlessly cheerful. You ignore the fact that your wrists are blank and instead surround yourself with too many people to forget that.

 

But really, it’s only a temporary solution. Like a band-aid to a stab wound.

 

When you reach your adolescent years, the pain of an empty wrist become more prominent. Especially because your heart begins to feel things that are more than platonic.

 

You fall in love with a pretty girl in your class. A girl with sugar sweet smiles and sunshine in her eyes.

 

But you could never be with her, you knew. And the reason? Fate has denied it.

 

_I’m sorry,_ the girl frantically explains _. I’m waiting for my soulmate and-_

 

_Don’t be sorry. I get it. I’m not going to force you into anything_ , you say through gritted teeth.

 

You try to give her a slight smile, let her know it’s alright. You walk past her and move quickly towards the door. You rush down the stairs and turn left. Your eyes blink back tears the whole way there.

 

You go in the restrooms and immediately lock yourself in the furthermost stall. Once the door is shut you sink down onto your knees — tears start pouring out and down your cheeks.

 

The rejection brands itself bitterly in your mind. Deep down, you already knew the answer was going to be a  _no_ , but the moment it was uttered out to you exactly the way you knew it would be you can’t help but feel upset.

 

She already has her partner’s name on her wrist. She already belongs to somebody. Still, you futilely try to chase after what could never be yours.

 

Your hands make its way to your blank wrist. Blunt nails dig itself onto skin and scratch, scratches harshly until red lines leave in its wake.

 

In the aftermath, as you wallow in too much self-pity and hatred, you think,

 

_Why do I have to be_ _ different _ _?_

 

 

———

 

 

Ever since that incident, you become afraid.

 

Fear of being heartbroken again settles deep in your gut. It makes you feel weird — the bad kind of weird — and no matter how hard you try to push it into the deepest crevices of your heart you can’t seem to get rid of it.

 

And you try to avoid the things that trigger you. But what can you do, when what hurts you is practically everywhere?

 

Some people try to console you. Others leave you to fend for your own.

 

What they don’t realise is that  _they’re_  the problem.

 

Sure, they have good intentions. But each time you see a name stamped on their wrists you feel your heart sinking more and more.

 

So you do the only thing you can do.

 

You build walls to protect yourself from the pain.

 

 

———

 

 

You saw him on one of your shifts at the bookstore.

 

He’s got blunt bangs and a slight wave in his hair, thin-wired glasses perched on his nose.

 

But that wasn’t what caught your attention first.

 

It’s his wrist cuffs.

 

He wears one on his left, made of leather and the laces tied into a neat bow. And it fits his secretive aura too — all closed up and quiet and a bit detached from his surroundings.

 

When he comes to the till to pay, he simply hands the book over the counter. You scan the barcode —  _Lost Souls_ , the title reads.

 

The man looks downwards, somehow seems like he doesn’t dare to meet your eye. That’s when you see it.

 

There’s the same fear you’ve felt your entire life in this man too.

 

After he pays, you give the book and the receipt over to him. Purposefully, you turn your blank wrists just a bit to his line of vision.

 

You’re not sure he took notice. You convince yourself,  _oh well — you can always try again next time._

 

But, as he steps out the door, you don’t understand how that man somehow took apart the tops of that brick wall encasing your fragile heart with him.

 

 

———

 

 

The man comes again a week later.

 

He looks tired today, you notice. Hair pulled back in a cap, dressed in skinny jeans and a hoodie — yep, he probably didn’t get much sleep last night.

 

When he comes to the register, you try to talk to him.

 

_Had a rough night?_

 

The man looks up, nods, and goes back to looking down at his phone.

 

Well, you never were someone who gave up that easily. You ask again,  _all-nighter?_

 

_Something like that_ , he vaguely replies.

 

And you clearly heard the underlying message — please don’t pry — so you leave it at that.

 

But when he gets out the door you stare at him, knowing he can feel your eyes on him.

 

You shake your head and try not to wonder about someone whose name you have yet to know.

 

 

———

 

 

He comes again two weeks later

 

This time he seems brighter, a bit cheerier.  _He looks better like this_ , you decide.

 

He’s walking shelf to shelf in search of something. In the end, when he couldn’t find what he was looking for, his brows furrow in frustration.

 

_Need any help_?

 

He turns back to face you.  _Yes, I do_ , he replies.

 

He shows you a picture on his phone. It’s the cover of a book titled  _Heart of Gold_ , a book that was released just three days ago.

 

_I’m afraid we’re sold out of it. It’ll be restocked soon, though._

 

The man nods.  _Can you save me a copy?_

 

You agree to text him as soon as the book gets to the store. He beams in delight and asks for your phone to type in his number.

 

This time, after he leaves, he has opened a cage full of butterflies in your carefully-guarded heart.

 

 

———

 

 

As promised, you text him the second the book is available again.

 

_Hi, this is Yunho. Your book’s here Changmin-ssi_ , you inform.

 

His response is almost immediate. Your phone beeps signifying his reply in under a minute.

 

_Just Changmin is fine. And thanks! I’ll be coming to pick it up later._

 

You save him the best copy of the book — the one that doesn’t even have the slightest fold at the edges and on the spine.

 

You gather a sliver of courage to stick a little note behind that book.

 

_Hang out with me. Just around town     :)_

 

What you didn’t expect is for Changmin to agree.

 

He sends you a picture of the orange sticky note you’ve stuck onto the book later that night. Under it, as you anxiously wait for the three dots of the chat bubble to transform into words, appears,  _Sure thing!_

 

 

———

 

 

When the day of your date comes by, you two agree to meet up at the store.

 

You’re closing up the bookstore as Changmin patiently waits for you to finish. You both have decided to go around town, get some light dinner, and maybe relax at a little cafe.

 

It’s safe to say the date went  _very_  well.

 

You discover that he’s studying literature at the nearby university, that he has a hobby of singing, and that he’s adorably shy.

 

Like,  _very_  adorably shy. Adorable to the point where it’s even unbelievable how it could be like that.

 

As you two talk in the cafe, he silently reaches out for your hand from under the table. It surprises you at first — Changmin’s been meek so it catches you off guard.

 

You look up to see that Changmin’s cheeks are rosy as he ducks his head to sip his drink.

 

You grin.  _He’s so cute_ , you think, as you grip his hand in return.

 

Changmin’s cheeks flush even more, if possible. It spreads to the tips of his ears too. He meets your gaze with a bashful smile.

 

He’s all you think about the rest of the night, and even on the days after that.

 

 

———

 

 

After that encounter, you two grow even closer.

 

Texting once in a while grow more frequent. Meeting only at the bookstore becomes meeting at his house for a movie. There’s tension, the good type that leaves your heart with a giddy feeling, in the air.

 

And of course, not long after, friends transform into boyfriends.

 

You find out that Changmin’s a sweet lover, always honest in his desires although shy in asking for affection. He gives you kisses when you least expect it and pecks your cheek way too often in public. It leaves you feeling excited and very much in love.

 

And you? Well, you think he’s definitely much better than you, deserves someone better than you. But he never fails to remind you that you’re the one for him.

 

He tells you that you’re understanding and patient, that you give him the warmest hugs, and that you take care of him so well.

 

All in all, it’s the easiest relationship you’ve ever been in. For that, you’re beyond glad.

 

 

———

 

 

On one night, Changmin tells you something.

 

_It’s been on my mind for a while_ , he says.  _And I think it’s time you should know._

 

And you nod. You shift so you’re looking straight at him, makes sure he knows you’re listening.

 

Then he unties the strap around his wrist. He slowly pulls at the knot holding it together.

 

Changmin reveals the mark on his wrist. You skim over it. There’s a name there, but it’s barely legible. It’s been crossed out as if hastily, and what is left to be seen now is a scribble of black on his skin.

 

_It’s been like that ever since I was 11,_ you hear him explain _, it’s because my soulmate died._

_I spent my childhood thinking of the day I’d meet my significant other. But it turned out that I never would meet them,_ he sadly tells you.  _  
_

_I hope you this won’t make you view me any different_ , Changmin goes on to say.

 

You smile and take Changmin’s hand in yours. You gently stroke his wrists, run your thumb over his knuckles.

 

He casts his face downwards in hesitation. You tilt his chin up and kiss him. Kiss him and pour all of your most sincere emotions into such a simple act.

 

After several moments spent, Changmin pulls back and gasps. But still, both of you are breathing in the same air. His eyes are still shut, mouth parted as he pants. You feel so much affection for him to where it’s nearly unbelievable.

 

_I love you_ , you murmur against his lips.  _I still am and will always be forever yours, and I don’t need a name on my wrist to know that._

 

Changmin smiles and you helplessly smile back too. And for once, the burden of your nameless wrists feel like nothing at all.  _  
_

 

_———_

 

The next day, you wake up with the words  _Shim Changmin_  etched on your wrists.

 

Shock and delight instantly rushes through your system. You shake Changmin, who’s still fast asleep beside you, frantically awake.

 

_What is it?_

 

You reply not with words. Rather, you show his name that’s on your once blank wrists.

 

His eyes go wide in an instant. In disbelief, he grabs your arm closer to inspect it.

 

You catch a peek of the black mess on Changmin’s wrists. On it, you see a new set of words.

 

You reach out for his arms too.  _Jung Yunho_ , the letters read.

The feeling of happiness overwhelms you. You push up to hover above him and claim his lips. You cup his cheek as Changmin slides a hand in your hair.

 

You both don’t exchange much words. But your kisses convey a message that’s loud and clear.

 

_I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on twitter @[thirstvxq](https://twitter.com/thirstvxq)


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